


The End of This Line

by flipflop_diva



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Shower Sex, Vaginal Fingering, a little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 13:19:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19476727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/pseuds/flipflop_diva
Summary: When Steve had nothing left, he still had her. Set immediately post-Infinity War.





	The End of This Line

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sodium_amytal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sodium_amytal/gifts).



The grief was like a heavy weight on his chest. Everywhere he looked were reminders of what he had just lost — the place he had stood, joking with Bucky right before they headed out to fight Thanos, the rubber band Sam had been fiddling with (and had aimed at the back of Bucky’s head) that he had accidentally dropped on the floor when he went to put his wings on, the glass of water Wanda had left half-finished on the Quinjet when they had landed in Wakanda.

All of them, gone. Just like that. In the blink of an eye.

Had he told Bucky he was glad he was okay? He had, right? Had he told Sam he was the best (literal) wingman a guy could have? They must have talked about it at some point, hadn’t they? Had he told Wanda that she had turned into an amazingly strong and talented woman and was more than deserving of being called a hero? He couldn’t remember. Had he told Vision that he was sorry for everything that had happened when the Accords had torn the team apart? Had he told them all he was sorry for what happened when the Accords had torn the team apart? Had he told them all how he sometimes wished he had maybe made some different choices back then? Had he told them all how thankful he was that they had been by his side and how he could never repay them for all the sacrifices they had made for him?

He had no idea. Everything in his mind was a mess, every memory a giant aching gash in his chest. He tried to remember happier days — there had been happier days, right? — but all he could see were the looks on their faces as one by one they disappeared from existence.

They had to fix this. They _had_ to. There _had_ to be a way. Right?

A cool hand touched his arm, and he jumped slightly before turning. Natasha looked as miserable as he felt. The blood and the dirt from the fight were still all over her — covering her hair, her face, her uniform.

She didn’t say anything, and he didn’t need her to. He reached out his arms, and she came willingly, letting him tuck her against his chest, her very presence a reminder that not entirely everything had been lost.

In the middle of all the grief, all the pain, the never-ending sorrow, there was still a tiny little light. A tiny bit of warmth. She was still here, still next to him. He could still touch her, still hold her, still see her.

If Thanos had taken her too …

But he hadn’t. She was here, in his arms, and all of a sudden, he had a desperate desire for her to understand how much she meant to him, how glad he was that she was okay.

He dropped his hands from where they had been gripping her back and moved them to her waist, and she lifted her head to peer up at him. There must have been something in his eyes that told her what he wanted because she drew back from him, placing her hands on his chest, and then she lifted herself up on to her toes and pressed her lips against his.

It was so different than the other times they’d kissed — this time wasn’t because they were flirting or they were trying to escape Hydra or because they had just needed a night of stress relief while pretending they were only friends and only ever going to be friends. This was something more, something different.

They pulled apart long enough for Steve to take her hand and lead her down the hall to the room T’Challa had given Steve to stay in before everything had gone to hell. It seemed weird to be there now, but for this one moment, he didn’t care.

He kicked the door shut with his foot and leaned down to kiss Natasha again. Her hands went to the sides of his face, and her mouth opened willingly to let his tongue in. He walked her backward across the room until they entered the bathroom that was off to the side. She bumped up against the huge marble sink, and he lifted her up so she was sitting atop it.

He took his time, first unzipping her dirty uniform and then slowly helping her peel it off, down her arms and down her chest and past her hips and down her legs, until she was clad only in her underwear, her perfect skin marred by a collection of scrapes and bruises that were like a visceral reminder of everything that had gone wrong. She raised her arms, and he yanked her sports bra over her head, and then she lifted her bottom, and he pulled off her underwear, and then he was kissing her again as his fingers kneaded themselves around her breasts and his thumbs traced patterns over her nipples.

Finally, she pulled back. “I think you’re a bit overdressed, Soldier,” she said, and her voice sounded huskier than usual, but he took a step back so she could undress him, letting Natasha take as much time with his uniform as he had with hers. She stuck a hand into his boxers before shoving them down his hips, her hand wrapping around his penis as she stroked him a little, her thumb running over the tip.

He growled, deep in his throat, and lifted her, carrying them both into the shower. He let her turn the water on, her hands over his shoulders, and he kissed her deeply as the first cold droplets stung his back until they finally turned to a scorching heat.

He lifted her higher, letting her lean against the shower and wrap her legs around his neck. One hand braced her by her bottom, his other spread her open just so as his lips found her clit and he began to suck.

She moaned softly above him, shifting to get him where she needed, and he mouthed at her, licking stripes up and down her center, and then finally latching back on to her clit as he inserted a finger inside her.

She arched her back as he finger fucked her, grinding a little against his mouth, but it was when his supporting hand squeezed her ass in time with a little nibble of his teeth against her that he felt her shudder and then go limp, her breathing deep as she panted into his hair.

He lowered her down, not to the ground, but so her legs could encircle his hips. 

“Okay?” he asked her, and she looked up at him with glazed eyes and nodded, “Yes.”

He entered her in one smooth motion, and they moved together as the water began to cool and the dirt poured off of them. She came again, with his finger on her clit, and she tightened her grip around him, scratching the nails of one hand up his back while the other gripped his hair, and he welcomed the physical pain as he pounded into her, and finally, finally, with her urging him on and her body wrapped around him, he forgot the grief and the sorrow and the feeling that nothing would ever be okay again.

They made it out of the bathroom together and fell into bed, not entirely clean and definitely not okay but also not alone. They spent the night making love over and over again, as if they needed the physical reminder that someone else was there, and by the time the sun rose over Wakanda, Steve felt like a tiny portion of the grief had lifted. The pain was still so deep, and the faces of their vanished friends still haunted his memories, but some of the fog had lifted and he was starting to hope that maybe, just maybe, with Natasha by his side, they would be able to get through this too.


End file.
